Human life consists in mutual service. No grief, pain, misfortune, or 'broken heart' is excuse for cutting off one's life while any power of service remains. But when all usefulness is over, when one is assured of an unavoidable and imminent death, it is the simplest of human rights to choose a quick and easy death in place of a slow and horrible one.

When Andrew Jackson died someone asked a friend if he thought Old Hickory would go to heaven. 'He will if he wants to,' was the reply. On his death bed Disraeli declined a visit from Queen Victoria. 'No, it is better not', he said, 'she would only ask me to take a message to Albert.' I am a broken machine. I am ready to go.

I hate funerals, and would not attend my Own if it could be avoided, but it is well for every man to stop once in a while to think of what sort of a collection of mourners he is training for his final event.

A belief in hell and the knowledge that every ambition is doomed to frustration at the hands of a skeleton have never prevented the majority of human beings from behaving as though death were no more than an unfounded rumour, and survival a thing not beyond the bounds of possibility.